Mrs. Bieber [Zustin Mieber FF] English Version

Part 47

Zayn

I woke up with sticky eyes, I could feel how sore my whole body was and how my back was burning. And all of that just from three crazy women who had haunted me yesterday.

Okay, that may sound a little melodramatic, but I felt like every muscle was so strained that I could barely move. My head was pounding, and the worst part of yesterday was that it was total torture for me. Other men would have found it hot and satisfying, but I just didn't like being hung by my own cock.

I'm sure I would have preferred listening to Justin ranting than taking those little beatings from the strippers. I mean, they weren't exactly brutal, but they just kept doing it. Well, it was just their job, they didn't know why they were doing it. They were just doing what they were paid to do.

But I think the most uncomfortable part of the whole thing was that I didn't want to talk about it. It had officially scarred me for life. I would never talk about it, not even if I went to confession in church.

I was so glad we had a day off, because I wouldn't be able to do anything. At least not without screaming in pain.

I never expected Justin to send strippers to get back at me. But the intention behind the act probably hurt even more than the beating. I could just imagine Justin sitting there, writing the notes and sending the box off, grinning to himself but absolutely pissed behind the grin.

I laughed to myself, he sent strippers. I mean, actual strippers who showed up at my hotel room. I couldn't help but start laughing, but it immediately made me wince in pain and I ended up lying on my side in bed, half crying, half laughing. He was

probably the most unique person I've ever met. I mean, if someone cheated on me, I would break up with that person just like that by talking to them.

But Justin was anything but normal. The guy sent me a package of the smallest condoms and a stripper trio. Yeah, that was some punishment. I know I shouldn't laugh about it, but I couldn't help it. That night was torture and I would definitely never forget it.

I mean, at least now I knew I couldn't compete with him. I know it's not exactly funny, but it was hard not to see some kind of humor in that situation.

And that note! He had basically given me the biggest middle finger there was with a written piece of paper. And the message definitely got to me loud and clear. My stomach turned when I thought about what he really had planned.

Anyway, I couldn't avoid him any longer, this was the perfect opportunity to talk to him. The guys were gone for the rest of the day and I was planning on staying here. Not just because I was really screwed, but also simply because I wasn't really the person who went out. I had been pushed out of the house most of the time because I was such a couch potato.

The boys had already gone to a water park earlier, we were back in Miami, Florida and since I didn't like water anyway, the boys didn't ask twice when I said I wasn't going.

So now I was alone. Surprise!

I slowly got up from my bed, my back aching a little from being tied up and hung up yesterday. Somehow I was surprised that these girls hadn't broken anything yesterday.

I had taken it like a man though... OK, I had hit back a little, but that only got me more punches. God, how some people just found it so satisfying to hurt others. These girls were sadistic...

By the way, I still hadn't found the courage to call, I kept trying to finally pick up the phone and call Justin, but something deep in my stomach always stopped me. I was still scared and pretty embarrassed, I bet he would just laugh at my pain.

I groaned in frustration. It had been three days, well, four, that I hadn't spoken to him and if we could pull ourselves together and come clean at some point, I should come across as serious. I was behaving like a child who was avoiding his mother's scolding.

I was a man. A man who was older than his husband. This wasn't a dominant and submissive relationship. I didn't have to answer him and I didn't have to crouch at his feet. And besides, it's not like he couldn't reach for his own cell phone.

I rolled out of bed and grabbed the phone. A sudden surge of confidence and security surged through me. I scrolled down my phone, unplugged it, and began pacing the room. I was sure I could silence him so I could speak out.

I ran through my excuses and reasoning, making sure I didn't look like a total dick. I heard the tone as it dialed. And dialed.

I growled, pacing back and forth, staring at the ceiling when I heard another tone.

"Hello! This is Justin fucking Bieber, since you've reached me, I shouldn't answer. There's a reason for that. I think you know what I'm talking about, Zayn."

My jaw dropped to the floor with a crash as the tone came back. "Call me! I received your little gift and I have to say I wasn't expecting it from you. But that's not the point. We need to talk," and then I hung up.

He had made a stupid answering machine message that was addressed directly to me! I put the phone back in my pocket. He probably wouldn't call me back anytime soon and it wouldn't surprise me. He seemed really pissed off at me. Still.

Well, of course he was. He still thought I had slept with that woman and that's why he sent those sluts, thinking I couldn't control myself. That was like a slap in the face. He didn't even have to say much, I knew what his message to me was.

I called him again, just in case. Maybe he was in the shower, on a rehearsal or just not near his phone. The answering machine picked up right away and put my phone away again. I wouldn't get a call back anytime soon.

My stomach growled as I sank back down onto the mattress. The hotel phone was right next to it on a nightstand and I was far too tired to go downstairs, so I picked up the phone.

"Hello? This is the concierge," a man greeted in a voice that was far too friendly, making me want to punch him.

I cleared my throat. "Yeah, I'd like to call room service."


I


threw the napkin on my dessert table. I had just eaten a delicious steak with baked potatoes and was just about to eat the last spoonfuls of dessert. Delicious chocolate ice cream. I was just about to scrape the last bit of melted ice cream out of the bowl when my phone started to vibrate. I jumped, quickly spooned out the bowl and my stomach started to tighten.

I took the phone out of my pocket and his name flashed brightly. I hesitated. Should I answer it now or should I let him call me more than once?

Before I could make up my mind, my finger pressed the 'answer' button and with shaking fingers I held the phone to my ear.

"You called?" his voice was not loud, it seemed deeper, deadlier and emotionless.

"I think you know why I called - " I began.

"If you're calling to thank me for the girls - I can already hear the gratitude in your voice." he interrupted, his voice like knives. It stabbed, dug in and then twisted in my chest with every syllable that left his mouth.

"As much as it was torture for me, that's not why I'm calling. I want to tell you what actually happened - "

"Don't strain yourself," he spat, interrupting me again. "Your little friend Niall already told me everything. You didn't have to repeat it."

My blood froze at his harsh tone, it actually made goosebumps crawl up my arms. I shrugged.

"He only told you what he saw, Justin, but not what really happened. He just suspected." I tried to explain, but all I got was a bitter and cold laugh.

"So you didn't make out with the girl? Just searched her purse or something?" he replied without sarcasm, but I knew he didn't mean it in a good way. He was angry, his teeth were grinding and I could only imagine him rolling his eyes. I felt like I was going to be fired.

I swallowed. "Well, well, look..."

"Save it, I don't need any stupid excuses like 'Oh, I was so drunk, Justin, I didn't know what I was doing' or 'She kissed me first, I tried to get away from her'. Because you are more than capable of pushing a woman away before she offers to suck your cock." he growled and I bit my lip guiltily but the frustration and stubbornness didn't leave my stomach.

"I didn't fucking sleep with her! Niall made it seem that way but I didn't!" I screamed at him, trying to rationalize, trying to make him listen.

He was quiet on the other end of the line, as if he was about to come up with an answer. "Are you really blaming him now? Niall has nothing to do with whether or not you swap spit with a slut and you have the nerve to blame him. He just told me what he saw, maybe you didn't sleep with her but you still broke the fucking pact," he spat.

I started pacing the room again, raising my hands and letting them fall again, finally resting them on my forehead and muttering, "I know, I fucking know! I'm so sorry-"

"That's what just makes me laugh!" I heard his cold laughter again as he interrupted me again. "That it was you who wanted this pact! You were the one who got jealous, you were worried I would cheat on you. You were so obsessed with this whole respect thing! But in reality, I should have been worried about your loyalty!" he snapped at me, making me flinch. I could hardly bear the bitterness in his voice.

"I know, I know! I had a moment of weakness," I tried to explain and get a word in.

"Weakness?! You probably mean bullshit! I think you just wanted to sleep with a girl so badly to make me mad!" he spat, making me flinch again.

"Now will you please let me continue? I want to apologize!" I growled.

"No! Because you already said your piece! You were looking for excuses to excuse yourself for making out with a slut in the club! Why else would I send three sluts after you to the hotel?! Because you apparently can't keep your damn cock in your fucking tight jeans! You had the nerve to bitch at me because I had some friends over, and I was innocent! YOU accused me of cheating on YOU, even though I never did or even thought about it, because I have damn respect! And I still think about things like values ​​and morals! I was taught to be faithful, to my girlfriend and now to my husband! I've seen my mother cry so many times when she was cheated on and I never wanted to be that asshole who cheats on someone just because they don't have the balls to break up with you. I never wanted to put someone through that kind of heartache! And you know what? You think you've proven yourself a real man by sleeping with that whore and you think you did nothing wrong! But no! Fucking NO! You're nothing but a fucking excuse of a man! If only you'd had the decency to call me first and say, "Look Justin, I don't think I can go ahead with this pact. Can we call it off?" But NO! You just do what you think you can and shove your tongue down the next best girl's throat! Blame the alcohol all you want Zayn, but you had a choice, you always have a choice! You thought you were being clever? You thought you could get away with it?!" I could hear him breathing heavily on the other side, he had just been swearing so loudly.

I opened my mouth. "Answer me, damn it!" he shouted at me and I flinched again, almost whimpering at the level of his anger.

"I-no, I didn't mean to, Justin! Shit, it was eating me up from the inside! Justin, I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for this!" I shouted back, my voice breaking a little.

"It's eating YOU up? YOU feel like shit?!" he demanded. "How do you think I felt when a drunk Niall didn't tell me what you were doing! I could forgive you if you'd at least told me right away, but no, you wanted to hide it from me!"

"I didn't mean anything -" I began.

"Bull-fucking-shit! Why else would you leave me alone for so long?! Why else would you leave your phone on the fucking table when you knew full well I was going to call?!" he yelled at me and I wanted to crawl into a corner.

I opened my mouth to answer but I felt my shoulders drop in defeat and I struggled to breathe as I simply pushed away all my excuses.

"You know what, Zayn? For a little mini second I actually thought you were a man. I thought I could trust you, no. I trusted you. And I really thought you would have more respect for me and yourself. I pity you, Zayn. I really pity you. I guess I trusted someone who really and truly didn't deserve it." He finished, his voice softening. His tone was no longer aggressive and defensive. He just sounded like he was tired, tired of shouting. His voice was hoarse.

"You weren't going to tell me, were you, Zayn?" he whispered then, and I thought he was going to break. Like our whole relationship depended on my answer. And it did, fuck, it did.

I opened my mouth, but not as air came out. "Justin, shit, I'm so sorry..."

He just laughed. "Why are you apologizing, Zayn? We're not in a relationship, we're barely acquaintances, really. You don't seem to care about me."

His words stabbed straight into my gut, and all I could feel was the air desperately fighting to leave my lungs. "That's not true, I thought we were friends."

The only answer I got was a laugh, a forced laugh. As if it hurt him. "You don't have to pretend anymore, Wifey. I know now what I really mean to you. I'm nothing but a nuisance, a pain in the ass, right?"

"Justin, I regret that night with everything I've ever done. Please, can't we just move on?" (as in "move on" idk how to translate that shit) I begged him. I've never sounded so desperate as I did in that moment.

I heard him sigh, sigh in frustration. "I know you do, Zayn. I can hear it in your voice. I can hear how desperate you are for my forgiveness. And you have it."

I jumped. "Really?"

I could hear him hesitate. "But that doesn't mean I'll ever trust you again. And don't expect me to ever touch you again. This little "no strings attached" game is over. I refuse to accuse myself of this humiliation and disrespect anymore. You really surprised me, Zayn, I never expected you to be a liar. And I never expected to find you a cheater either."

"Don't accuse me of such things! I'm not a liar, I was drunk, horny and you were nowhere!" I growled.

He laughed. "Oh, so it's my fault now? I'm really sorry that my fans put themselves before your sexual needs, bitch." He snorted.

My mouth fell open and I felt like a bucket of boiling water had just been dumped on me, I was so angry. "I'm not your fucking bitch! Don't call me that!"

He just giggled, but again it was forced. "I'll stop calling you one when you stop whining, dramatizing and screaming like one. Until then, you're nothing but a moron who seems to be thinking with the wrong head."

And my anger dissipated when I realised that I had really fucked up.


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